Part 19 (1/2)

”Silence man, silence,” said Panton, as he sat upon the burnt-up earth, holding his head with both hands, while Wriggs staggered about close at hand, laughing idiotically.

”But I can't, sir,” cried Smith, in a whimpering tone. ”If I'd been ash.o.r.e somewhere and met mates, and we'd been standing treat to one another, I wouldn't keer, but I'm sober as a hundred judges, that I am.”

”Will you be silent, man? I want to think,” said Panton, as he rocked himself to and fro.

”Yes, sir, d'reckly, sir, but don't you go thinking that of a man. I know I can't stand straight, for all the bones has gone out of my legs, and soon as I move I go wobble-wobble like cold glue.”

”Yes, yes, I know, I'm unsteady, too,” said Panton impatiently.

”But is it fits, sir? And do they take you like that?”

”No, no, my man, I suppose it's the gas.”

”Gas, sir,” cried Smith, looking round stupidly. ”What's it been escaping again? Gammon, sir: they aren't got no gas out here. I say, Billy Wriggs, don't make a hexibition of yourself. Keep quiet, will yer?”

”I can't, mate. It's a rum 'un, it is. What have the guvnors been givin' of us to drink?”

”I d'know, Billy. But do stand still.”

”I can't, mate, my legs will keep going and gettin' tangle up like one along o' the other, and knocking themselves together.”

”Then lie down afore I hits yer.”

”You won't hit me, Tommy,” said the man, with a silly laugh.

”Tell yer I shall. You aggravate me so, doing that there.”

”Will you two men leave off talking?” cried Panton, angrily. ”I can't think. Your words buzz in my brains like a swarm of bees. Ah, I have it now. Where is Mr Lane?”

”Mr Lane, sir?” said Smith, feebly, as he looked round, and then with his eyes staring and blank, he began to feel in his pockets.

”Yes, yes, man. Where is he?”

”I d'know sir. I aren't seen him. Where's Mr Lane, Billy? You got him?”

Wriggs chuckled as if he had been asked the most ridiculously comic question he had ever heard.

”I d'know, matey,” he said. ”It's o' no use to ask me.”

Smith lurched at him with his fists clenched, as if about to strike, but the intention was stronger than the power, and resulted in the sailor blundering up against his mate, and both going down together, and then sitting up and staring at each other in a puzzled way as if they found it impossible to comprehend their position.

At that moment Drew came staggering toward them out of the mist with his gun over his shoulder and his head down as he gazed at the ground, looking as if at any moment he would fall.

”Ah!” cried Panton, excitedly. ”I had quite forgotten you, Drew.”

”Eh?” said the botanist, stopping short. ”Someone call?”

”Yes; I--Panton. Come here.”

”He's got it, too, Billy,” said Smith. ”I say, what's the matter with all on us? Was it that water we drunk?”